


Crash

by spn_wincest_etc (babybrotherdean)



Series: Prompt Fills [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mountain Bikers AU, Sam and Dean are mountain bikers, and then they crash, and then they're not happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spn_wincest_etc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He goes down hard, something- some<i>one</i>, he corrects himself- slamming straight into his side, their pedals and handlebars catching and getting so hopelessly tangled up that it’s not even a surprise when they hit a root together and are abruptly thrown off their bikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash

**Author's Note:**

> _This is a weird request, but could you do a wincest au where Sam and Dean are mountain bikers, and they crash into each other? and then, you know, arguing and bla bla bla one thing leads to another? haha thanks_
> 
>  
> 
> This one was from [useddean](useddean.tumblr.com)! And mountain bikers are very important to me. So. Yes. Very good.

It’s one sharp turn after another on this run, abrupt drops and branches cutting so close that Dean has to duck more than once, shifting his weight to his feet on the pedals more than once to save his ass a less-than-fun experience. Everything’s narrowed to the ground underneath him, to keeping his eyes on the clear space ahead, very determinedly _not_ looking at the trees. _Or else you’ll run into them, Dean,_ he’d been told more than once after trying it out for himself.

So he doesn’t look at them, all his focus on staying steady, fingertips resting on his brakes, barely registers the sign as he passes it until it occurs to him that merging paths are really something he should be wary of, and the thought’s only barely finished forming when there’s a splash of colour in the corner of his eye, something purple and too-close and moving fast and getting bigger and-

He goes down hard, something- some _one_ , he corrects himself- slamming straight into his side, their pedals and handlebars catching and getting so hopelessly tangled up that it’s not even a surprise when they hit a root together and are abruptly thrown off their bikes.

Dean lands with a grunt, the air forced out of his lungs, the weight of another person half on top of his making it all the more difficult to get back. There’s some scrambling around, some muttered curses before the weight on top of him disappears and he’s abruptly yanked to his feet. 

“What the hell was that?” The guy’s big; it’s not often that Dean finds himself having to crane his neck back to meet anyone’s eyes. Broad shoulders that stretch the stupid purple shirt he’s got on, long hair once he yanks his helmet off. Hazel eyes that are making it pretty clear how pissed off the guy is. Nice to look at, all things considered. “Didn’t you read the damn sign?”

Dean’s got his breath back by now, irritation coming right in with it. “How was I supposed to read a sign? You know how damn steep that hill is? Steep enough that I’m not worrying about a fucking sign. Why didn’t _you_ slow down?”

The guy glares for another moment, then abruptly turns and stomps back in the direction they’d come from. He gestures aggressively towards the sign that Dean had apparently missed, reads it aloud for him.

“Yield. _You_ were supposed to yield. I’ve got right of way here!”

Alright, so maybe Dean feels a little bit guilty for that. He scowls, tugs off his helmet and goes about doing a self-assessment. He’s going to have some nasty bruises tomorrow, and probably some scraps, but he’s all in one piece.

Mister Tall Guy wanders back in the time it takes Dean to decide he’s alright, and he’s silent, looks like he’s still pissed when Dean glances up. “What?”

“Aren’t you gonna say sorry or something?” the guy demands, apparently unbothered by his own injuries. Dean’s pretty sure he’s bleeding, glancing down at the guy’s elbows, but he stays silent about it for the moment.

“For what? You’re the one who crashed into me.”

That just gets them going again, and Dean thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, that they’re lucky it’s a slow day. It really wouldn’t do anyone any good if they were to get run over by more bikers.

“You should’ve slowed down! Did you even read the handbook when you got here?” the guy demands.

Dean actually snorts aloud, shakes his head as he peels off his gloves. At least his palms aren’t scraped up. “Dude, who reads the handbooks? I get messed up if I think about this shit too much.”

A snort. “Yeah, I can see that.” A pause, and Dean can almost feel the guy’s eyes sweeping over him. “What’s your name?”

Dean knows that the back of his shirt has “Smith” across the back of it, but he figures the guy wants something to call him besides “that asshole who crashed into me.” “Dean Smith. You?”

“Sam Wesson.” The guy- Sam, apparently- looks at him for a long moment. “I should report you or something. Get you blacklisted.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, dude? And here I thought we were just getting to know each other.” In all actuality, he’s not too keen on getting kicked out, likes the trails here too much to be okay with that. “C’mon, we can work something out. Let me buy you a beer or something to make up for it.”

He’s not sure he’d intended the connotations of that to go through, but Sam raises his eyebrows, all the same. “You asking me out or something? You want to spend _more_ time with me?”

Dean snorts. Ignores the way his cheeks warm. Sure, Sam’s hot, but he also seems intent on getting him banned from one of his favourite parks. “You wish. Just want to get you off my ass about this.”

He’s not exactly sure how it happens, but Dean suddenly finds himself pressed back against a tree, Sam hovering right in front of them with his hands pressed into the bark on either side of Dean’s head. “I mean, maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I think I’d much rather get _in_ your ass.”

Dean doesn’t even have sufficient time to process that thought before Sam’s lips are on his, almost bruising with their intensity. Once he kicks his brain back into gear, Dean pressing back against him, doesn’t really realize he’s trying to deepen the kiss until Sam’s tongue slips into his mouth.

A few long moments pass, and Sam breaks away, panting harshly and resting their foreheads together. “I’ve got a room,” he murmurs. “Couple minutes from here. Get all patched up, see if we can’t come to an arrangement about how you can make this up to me.”

Dean snorts, doesn’t pull away. “Why am I doing the making up here?”

“’Cause you didn’t read the sign.” Sam grins. “And because I think you’d look awful pretty trying to make me feel better about this whole thing."

Dean feels like he should be offended by that- he’s punched guys for less- but instead, he just tangles his fingers in Sam’s too-long hair and yanks him in again for another hard kiss. Clearly, he’s got a lot of making up to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my writing blog at allywritesthings.tumblr.com if you're interested in requests!


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